


Happily Ever After

by DilynAliceBlake



Series: Jefferson/Hamilton [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Soulmates, Soumate AU, teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone asked for a look into their relationship post-reveal.  Cats and curiosity.  I hope you all die of cute.</p><p>"Whaaat?" he whines, because it's too early.<br/>"You're stupid phone, Alexander," Jefferson rumbles sleepily, "Answer it so it stops dinging."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The morning after the divorce between Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler is finally completely filed, Alex wakes up to Thomas shoving him, both of them still half asleep.  Alex takes a moment to admire how cute Jefferson looks, drool on his face and mane of hair sprouting every which way, before rolling over to lay haphazardly across him.

  
" _Whaaat_?" he whines, because it's too early.

  
"You're stupid phone, Alexander," Jefferson rumbles sleepily, "Answer it so it stops dinging."

  
Now that it's been pointed out, it's bothering Hamilton, too, so he reaches over and grabs it, clumsily tracing the glasses Thomas is wearing in his background picture to unlock the screen.

  
"You're cute in glasses," he says absentmindedly, just like he does every time he unlocks his phone.  It had been a very pleasing discovery, on his part.

  
Well, considering how he had reacted to them, it had been pleasurable on both their parts.

  
The noise is coming from his Facebook, so he pops open the notifications tab to see what evil demon request had the gall to wake him up before the sun.  So help him, if it's James Madison and his stupid Candy Crush addiction, he'll-

  
It's not James Madison and his stupid Candy Crush addiction.  It's a relationship status change notice.

  
**Thomas Jefferson is your Fiancé; Confirm/Deny?**

  
" _What_?" he whispers, and looks over to Thomas, who is now sitting up and holding an engagement ring out between them.

  
It's no doubt ridiculously expensive; platinum band with a pattern of emeralds and garnets dotted around it.  It's pretentious and loud and beautiful and so very _them_.

  
Thomas gives a shy smile.

  
"Well, Alexander?  Aren't you gonna respond?"

  
Alex launches himself across the bed, tackling Thomas back down into the ridiculously comfortable mattress.

  
"Yes!  Yes yes yes!!"

  
"Woah," Jefferson laughs into the kiss, "Careful, Alexander!  Don't want to lose your ring already.  May I?"

  
Alex leans back and nods mutely, unable to keep his grin in check as Thomas slides the gaudy ring onto his finger.

  
Thomas, he notices, is already wearing it's match.

  
Hamilton scrambles over for his dropped phone and mashes ' **Accept** ' more aggressively than strictly necessary.  His status appropriately updated, he makes a barely coherent tweet where he says "love of my life" more times than the character limit might advise, then replaces the phone on it's nightstand home before rolling back on top of his Fiancé.

  
"Good morning, Thomas," he greets, stroking the words on the Southerner's collarbone.

  
"Good morning, my Alexander," Thomas responds, his own hands resting on Alex's hips.

  
"I love you," they say at the same time, disgustingly cute, and the rest of the morning is filled with smiles and kissing.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexander is peering at the sale paper with all the focused intent of someone who grew up on a survival budget.  Thomas will never admit to it, but he's proud to know that he and his fiancé will be leaving the store with all of the best possible deals, (even if they don't need to be.)

He also won't admit that, now that Hamilton has insisted they start the odd weekly ritual, doing grocery shopping together is one of Jefferson's favorite things.

Thomas likes to come to the grocery store in his most expensive casual clothes, and grumble about plebian chores that they could just hire other people to do.  Then he spends the rest of the trip watching the intensity with which Hamilton shops, in awe that it is just as unwavering in this as anything else.

Mostly, though, Jefferson is here to admire his fiancé bending down to reach low shelves in his rattily thin track pants, and count how many times each trip Alex feels the need to redo his sloppy ponytail.  The record so far is four, but Thomas thinks that if he keeps pointing out every time the bun slips to become uneven then he could probably reach seven before Hamilton caught on.

"You figure out which fruit we're buying," Thomas says, like anything else has the possibility of happening.  "I'll go grab us a buggy."

Alexander looks up in confusion.

"Do what?"

"I said I'm going to go get us a buggy while you go through the weekly deals."

"...Is that, like, a food?"

"Oh my god, no Hamilton, a _buggy._ "  Jefferson points emphatically at where they're all lined up by the door, and Alexander's confused expression clears.

"You mean a cart."

"I _mean_ a buggy."

Alex crinkles his nose, and disagrees.  "No, those are shopping carts.  I've never heard that called a buggy before in my life."

"...Those are buggies.  When you go to the store, you get a buggy to put the groceries in.  I may not go shopping often, but even _I_ know that."

"Trust me, I've been in more grocery stores in a year than you probably have in your _life,_ and those are shopping carts.  Carts, which you push around, as you do your shopping."

"Those are _buggies_ and no force on this earth can convince me otherwise.  I'm going to go get one, and we can start putting things _in_ the buggy, while you explain to me in a very long-winded way why you feel the need to call things by their improper names."

"Those are _shopping carts_ ," Hamilton insists vehemently, and the argument has truly begun.

 

 

John Laurens walks into the office Monday morning feeling as cheerful as anyone can at the start of the work week.  He makes it to the proper floor to find a crowd gathered around Jefferson's office.

"Whatsup?" he asks casually, as if everyone listening at the door to Jefferson's office is perfectly normal.  Oh wait.  It is.

"You know those _things_ ," Peggy asks, "that you get at the store to put stuff in?  The giant metal basket on wheels with the plastic bar handle?"

"Oh, yeah, you mean a-"

"NO!" she shouts, slamming a hand over his mouth.  "Do _not_ say their name!  Hamilton and Jefferson have been arguing over what they're called all morning, the betting circle is in full swing, and if you express an opinion _you will get dragged into the crossfire_."

"What if I don't bet?" John proposes, after moving her hand.  "Then I could be a part of the argument without it being unfair that I sway the win."

"Look," Peggy whispers with no small amount of exasperation, and Laurens wonders if the paranoia is necessary.  "We all know they're called carts, but-"

" _What_ are you talking about?  Those are buggies!" he exclaims, and the couple in Jefferson's office has heard them.

 

"They are _buggies_ ," Jefferson hisses, and Madison and Laurens both nod emphatically while Mulligan, Peggy, and Hamilton all look like they're about to pop a vane.  The elder Schuyler sisters left early the minute it became apparent that no work was going to get done, and Maria is never anywhere Jefferson can glare at her unless it's necessary.  Burr is watching in infuriating silence.  The vote became split evenly once the yelling got the attention of Hercules down in the mail room, and Lafayette is delightedly filming the entire thing.

"I want to use the right word," he says with a cheerful grin, and the argument renews with sparking fervor.

"BULLSHIT!" Alexander screams, along with something about being engaged to a stubborn idiot.

"I call for a tie breaker!" Peggy shouts hoarsely some time later, and disagreement ensues about who they could ask.

In the end, Hamilton dials up Washington, interrupting whatever it is he does in retirement to ask on speaker phone while the others all whisper quietly.

"What is it, Son?" Washington asks with the patience of the saintly.

"Um, sorry, Sir, to interrupt, it's just, we're having a bit of a disagreement up here at the office, and we thought you could settle-"

"Just get on with it, Hamilton, I'd like to get back to my game."

Alexander wisely doesn't ask what game it is that George is so eager to get back to.

"When you go to the grocery store.  The, uh, the-"

"Baskets on wheels," Peggy pipes in.

"Yeah, the baskets on wheels, that you put the food in.  You call those..."

"You mean a buggy?" Washington attempts to verify when it's clear Alex won't continue, and whoops of joy ring through Thomas' side of the room.

"I _told_ you!" Jefferson brags, grinning as smugly as ever, and Alexander groans.

"You've just condemned me to an entire marriage of _'I told you so's'_ " Hamilton whines, and from the other end of the phone line George Washington splutters and chokes on a drink.

"What?  Hamilton?  Jefferson?  That was Jefferson I heard, wasn't it?  Have I missed something?  I thought you were married to Eliza, is she there?"

No one is paying attention except for Burr; the only one who can be relied upon to pay attention to more than the battles won when bet winnings are trading hands.

He takes the phone with barely any notice at all from Alexander, and greets his former boss as amicably as ever.

"Good afternoon, Sir.  I take it you haven't been keeping up with Facebook, then?"

Aaron supposes that he's probably in the best position to explain, since he's the only one who can do it without gushing, cursing, or both.


End file.
